


A sister’s concern

by froeken_frost



Series: Ill-fated [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Avvar Hold, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jaws of Hakkon, Mental Health Issues, Post-Endgame, implied emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froeken_frost/pseuds/froeken_frost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as a survivor of emotional and physical abuse has not always been easy for Rhachalle Lavellan.<br/>Her position as leader of the Inquisition has not always benefited her mental health.<br/>Despite, the three years among the Inquisition - and finally free from her mother's toxic influence - had improved her stability.<br/>But with now, with new stressors occurring on a personal level, her progress seems to crumple again, leaving those who care about her to watch her slow downfall in bitter helplessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue I

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't updated in a while, but no - I haven't abandoned this work. I'll continue as soon as I find the time for it ':D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at 9:41 Dragon, a few months before the Divine Conclave will take place.   
> The eventual Herold and Inquisitor Rhachalle Lavellan has just dissappeared from her Clan.

**_9:41 Dragon_ **

Mir’lin wasn’t the kind of person who couldn’t pass a single day on her own entertainment.

She had her duties among the clan, and she had experiments of her own which she needed to attend. On a normal day, she wouldn’t have bothered about the hours that seemed to drag on and on.

But this day was no usual day.

As she caught herself staring into the distance of the dense, green woods yet another time, she decided that now it was enough. She wouldn’t sit idle any longer, waiting for her younger sister to return with whatever kind of information she had picked up.

She snapped her bag in a second, already headed for the camp side’s exit as she turned back to fetch bow and quiver.

Best not to roam the woods unarmed these days.

Once again her gaze drifted.

Especially since they still lacked information about one of their hunter’s murder. His body almost entirely burned, and clearly not first after his death.

Someone had wanted Sim’lar to suffer before he died.

Unfortunately, Mir’lin was quite sure of who this person was.

The rest of the clan however had obviously decided to shut their eyes and minds, believing every word their Keeper told them.

“ _We cannot prove Sim’lar was murdered. He might have had an accident on his hunt._

 _Some_ shem _, not accustomed to our traditions, might have wanted to give him a proper burial. As far as I am aware, humans tend to burn their deceased.”_

Mir’lin wondered if her mother even believed her own words, if she truly was so deep in denial.

She restrained a deep sigh from leaving her lips as she left the camp side behind.

The relief about not been watched by the entire clan flushed through her veins, as she suddenly realized their guarded looks had weighed more than she’d imagined.

 

A hunter, popular among their clan, found dead and burned in the depths of the forest.

Her older sister Rhachalle, First of the Clan, missing from the same day Sim’lar’s body was found.

Her younger sister Xen’eth gone too, even if only to search for some answers.

Answers to questions which her mother obviously didn’t want to get.

And apparently no one in the entire clan seemed to bother, except for staring at her every time they thought her not to notice.

 

Mir’lin tried to distract herself by gathering herbs and ingredients she lacked for her research, the familiar routine slowly starting to calm her nerves. It was enjoyable to have her hands occupied, her mind followed easier this way.

It still seemed miraculous to her that no one had yet accused her mother of her lies, that no one had become suspicious. Or maybe they did, but their respect – or even fear – of _Keeper Deshanna_ was too high to speak freely.

The day after their mother had declared Sim’lar was to bond with Rhachalle, both of them disappeared, and then they found his body, tortured and scorched

 _After_ Rhachalle had made pretty clear she disagreed with the Keeper’s plans, in front of the whole clan.

Not that anyone could understand Rhachalle’s objections.

Mir’lin assumed except for herself and her mother, none of the clan knew what had happened between Rhachalle and Sim’lar years ago.

But in her function as the clan’s Keeper, Deshanna had always insisted her three daughters to bond as soon as possible. The magic, running firm and strong in their veins, had to be inherited into the next generation. At least according to her mother. And since neither of them seemed to obey, her mother finally choose to take the decision in her own hands

She had been right, in a way.

The clan needed more mages, for they had no Second, and now with Rhachalle missing, no First, for that matter.

Sim’lar might not have been a mage, but there had been mages in his family before, which according to her mother was obviously enough sanctification to force her firstborn into bonding with him, without concerning about what her daughter wanted in her life.

Wasn’t she able to predict what would have happened? Was she too blind to see it coming?

Mir’lin groaned in frustration as her mind went over the same question she’d asked herself for the last few days again.

No one seemed to care beyond their grief over Sim’lar’s sudden death.

No one seemed to care that their First was missing.

Even though the hunter had been popular among the clan, and her older sister certainly had not, it bugged Mir’lin to witness their foolishness.

At least her younger sister was still on her side.

Maybe Xen’eth would return with some good news.

Maybe she had found out where Rhachalle was hiding.

Maybe she brought her home tonight.

Yet she wasn’t sure if her mother would even allow Rhachalle to come home again.

Murder among the people wasn’t exactly well seen, for obvious reasons.

But what choice did she have? Rhachalle was her daughter, and if that didn’t matter to Deshanna, she was the clan’s First. They needed her!

Even though the clan might deny to see it right now, blinded by their grief for Sim’lar’s death.

Once again Mir’lin considered simply telling the truth to the clan.

That Sim’lar was not who they all thought he was.

That he had forced himself upon her sister, years ago.

That she had never forgiven him, and Mir’lin hadn’t either.

Still, it frightened her to think about her older sister as a cold-blooded murderer.

The picture of Sim’lar’s body, abandoned in midst of the woods, scorch marks surrounding him, his skin and flesh crumbled from relentless, targeted flames.

An old familiar inner force made her reach for the paralyzed side of her face once more, her fingertips brushing against the numb, coarse skin.

She knew exactly how it must have felt for him.

On bad days, she could still recall the accident more than vividly, white-hot flames devouring her flesh and skin, before they were able to extinguish them.

Never would she forget the kind of caustic smell from burning flesh she learned that day.

And to think Rhachalle, her kind sister, a natural spirit healer who had healed most of the clan before, would have done something horrible like this _deliberately_ to another person…

It made her sick just to imagine it.

There would have been different ways to free her from the bonding mother forced her into.

Rhachalle was a healer, not a murderer.

But yet. The doubts remained, circling around her thoughts as she proceeded her work.

 

Xen’eth had promised she would return at this evening’s nightfall, despite what she would or would not have found by then. A quick glance around told Mir’lin it was about time to start back if she wanted to make it in time.

She wasn’t sure if their mother would punish Xen’eth for leaving the camp side for days without asking permission. Not that she would have granted it anyway.

As she neared the small glade the clan had encamped for the last week, she could quickly spot Xen’eth, crowded by the clan’s smaller children. Xen’eth was somewhat famous for obtaining human sweets under mysterious circumstances, which made her utmost popular among the children.

Mir’lin relaxed a little at the familiar sight, her younger sister’s chuckles resounding all the way back towards her.

Yet as she came closer and Xen’eth noticed her presence, the young woman felt unusually silent.

The heavy knot in Mir’lin stomach returned in a split second.

Xen’eth’s face gloomed as she turned towards her, and shook her head in a wordless negation.

The sadness in her eyes almost made Mir’lin flinch.

“You haven’t found her then?”

Another confirming shake, Xen’eth’s red curls bouncing along her neck.

“She disappeared. I don’t think I will be able to find her, unless she wants to be found. I’m sorry, sister.”


	2. Prologue II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Word reaches Clan Lavellan: Their missing First has been found, unfortunately as the Chantry's captive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second chapter is set a few weeks after the last one

Mir’lin’s thoughts were buried deeply in her experiment, she compelled her hands from shaking as she added small doses of powdered Felandaris with an unnerving caution.

Her younger sister standing a few steps behind her, she noticed first as she lifted her gaze again.

She shot a mildly confused smile at Xen’eth as soon as she saw the troubled look in her sister’s eyes.

“We didn’t expect you to return this soon.” Mir’lin put down the clay vessel and focused entirely on her sister.

Xen’eth had started to play with her small braid again, as she used to do every time she was nervous.

Mir’lin took a quick look around them, before she leaned in closer.

“Have you…” She started whispering, but Xen’eth cut her off.

“I have heard _something_ in my time in Markham, yes.” Xen’eth implied her to follow her, despite the fact they were mostly alone.

Now Mir’lin caught a really bad feeling. What _did_ her sister find out they couldn’t discuss at the encampment, with their mother nowhere to be seen?

Xen’eth remained quiet for the whole time, which was more than a little unnerving. Xen’eth, who almost never shut up, a pet peeve that had annoyed her several times.

Now, Mir’lin wished her sister would finally start talking to her again, telling her what had her as troubled as she was!

With her nerves tense like this, it felt almost like an eternity until Xen’eth seemed to consider them far enough away from the camp side to speak again.

“This doesn’t look good, Lin.” Xen’eth muttered, her eyes locked on her feet, toying with some small, broken branches.

The tension that built up between them was almost too much for Mir’lin to bear.

“Just tell me, okay? Have you… found Rhachalle?” Her first anger-filled voice dropped lower as Xen’eth’s eyes shifted towards her quickly, sizing her up for a few more heartbeats before she exhaled audibly.

“You noticed the fighting we had to avoid over the last months? Those between the mages and templars?” Mir’lin nodded slowly, still unclear of what her sister tried to tell her. Every clan roaming the Free Marches as aware of the war between them. There had hardly been a way not to notice the riot that occurred in Kirkwall.

“There has been a gathering. Somewhere in the Frostbacks. It was supposed to be some kind of peace talks. Originally.” Xen’eth paused again, her face clearly showing she disliked what she was about to say next.

“Things went horribly wrong, apparently. Like, really bad. The man I… Well, the one I got my information from, he spoke of some kind of magical explosion, and of thousands of people dying that day. Might have been a bit exaggerated, but still. It must have been a massacre.”

Mir’lin interrupted her younger sister impatiently. With no doubt, this was more than a little disconcerting, but she had hoped so badly for Xen’eth to have found out something about their missing sister.

“Unfortunately, I did.” Xen’eth took up her demur “The human’s chantry claims an elven apostate to be responsible for the assault. And their description match with Rhachalle. My contact even mentioned our clan’s name.”

The world seemed to melt into a hushed blur before Mir’lin’s eyes.

“As I said: It really doesn’t look good.”

Mir’lin desperately tried to calm her racing thoughts down again.

“But, what should she be doing this for south? At a peace talk between mages and templars? This doesn’t make any sense! You must be mistaken!”

This definitely was a mistake. It had to be!

The idea of Rhachalle killing Sim’lar and abandoning their clan was already horrible enough. But what Xen’eth had just told her, seemed even more unlikely to her.

Xen’eth shook her head, her eyes locked onto the ground again.

“If only it could be this simple, Lin.” Mir’lin still denied to believe her sister’s words. This had to be nothing but a big misunderstanding.

“Come on, Xen. This was probably just some gossip from a random drunkard you seduced in a filthy tavern; he probably made up half of it in order to impress you.”

Xen’eth had looked up again, but still avoided Mir’lin’s eyes, her posture finally showing less insecurity again.

“It wasn’t like that. I assumed exactly this might be the case. That’s why I… well, let’s call it _I asked around_ in higher places. I was even able to snatch away a message addressed to my acquaintance. It’s no mistake, Mir’lin. Rhachalle will be taken to Val Royeaux for a trial. And I don’t think she’ll make it out alive.”

Mir’lin noticed distantly that she had started shaking her head again, as she forced herself to _think_. There had to be a different solution!

“It’s tough, right? I still can’t quite understand why she would do something like that. All those innocent people…”  
Mir’lin cut her sister off immediately. “No, Xen’eth, stop it! There’s no way she would do that!”

She forced herself to inhale deeply, her mind filled with objections.

“The presence of an elven mage must have been a perfect scapegoat for the _shem’len_.

Did the message say something about when her trial is set? Maybe we can still make it there in time! We could speak for her, or maybe even free her on our own! We…” She realized she was obsessing irrational about it, but still stopped first as Xen’eth disrupted her impatiently.

“And what if she actually _did_ kill all these people?”

Mir’lin was baffled in astonishment. “You can’t honestly believe that to be true?”

Her voice pithed as her words came out way sharper than she had intended them to.

But her sister seemed unimpressed anyhow, a simple shrug her only reaction.

“Would you have guessed she would kill Sim’lar? Or the way she did it?” Mir’lin clenched her jaw at the reminder of it.

“We can’t be sure she did that, either.”

Xen’eth shot her a strange look, one Mir’lin couldn’t quiet classify, but then turned away, heading towards the camp side again.

Mir’lin let out a tardy sigh before holding her sister back.

“Innocent or not, she still is our sister! We can’t simply sit back and watch her die!” For a second Mir’lin feared her sister would disagree. But then Xen’eth finally nodded, even though her face still pictured her uncertainty.

“Let’s just hope mother will cooperate with this.”

 

* * *

 

 

Of course she did not.

Mir’lin let another annoyed noise slip as their mother turned her back at them again.

“Have you even listened to us, mother?” As she only received further silence as an answer, Mir’lin continued.  
“We need to hurry if we want to stand a chance of saving her! We know more where they keep here, more or less, at least. We have to try!”

She heard a click of tongue from Xen’eth, which surely translated to _I told you so_.

Mir’lin shot her a warning look. Her sister knew exactly how annoyed their mother could react to these kind of impudence.

And indeed, Deshanna swirled, her green eyes narrowed as she flashed at them.

“She is miles away from here. The Clan would never make it in time, even if Rhachalle would be worth the effort.”

For a second Mir’lin was only able to stare at her mother, wondering slightly, why she still felt disappointed by her mother’s way of treating them.

This certainly wasn’t the first time, neither would it be the last.

“So, you just want to leave her to her fate?” Xen’eth exclaimed, her wrath surrounding her almost tangible. Mir’lin knew the reason why her sister reacted so strongly, and it wasn’t only her concern for Rhachalle.

Her younger sister had always suffered most from their mother’s emotional distance. Hearing those words from her now… Mir’lin could only begin to imagine how much it must hurt Xen’eth.

“She left us first, did she not?” Their mother’s voice lowered into a dark whisper again.

Mir’lin reached her patience’s end.

“And what do you think were the reasons for her actions? Do you truly believe you’re without guilt on that matter?”

Deshanna’s face froze again, her expression illegible.

There it was.

Mir’lin had finally outspoken it.

Deshanna’s gaze was avoiding her own again.

“We cannot prove she had anything to do with Sim’lar’s accident.” Her mother repeated what she tried to convince them ever since the day they had found his body.

Xen’eth let out a small cry as she stepped forward, one hand reaching down in one of her small pockets.

“Can’t we, _mother_?” The disgustful spit at the last words didn’t went unnoticed, as Mir’lin was sure about it.

Her mother’s eyes grew wide as she spotted the small piece of wood laying on Xen’eth’s palm.

“You recognize it, mother? It’s Rhachalle’s sylvanwood ring. I found it next to Sim’lar’s body. You see those scorch marks? She probably attempted to burn it in the glowing ashes before she left our clan for good.

Or how would you interpret this, _Keeper_?”

Deshanna kept staring at the ring, and Mir’lin couldn’t hold it against her.

She hadn’t known about this either. Xen’eth had been smart enough to hide the evidence from the rest of the clan.

Mir’lin suddenly felt grateful about it. There was no need to stir them up against her older sister once more.

“Even more reason to leave her to her fate. She deserves nothing less.”

Deshanna uttered with her monotonous voice.

“For Creators’ sake, mother! She still is your daughter!!

Mir’lin shouted in sudden, heated anger. But Deshanna only straightened her back and turned around again.

“We will discuss this matter no further.”

 

* * *

 

 

The following evening certainly felt strange for Mir’lin.

Simply sitting among the others, listening to the crackling campfire and the rambling dialogues, the already heard stories their _hahren_ told.

An evening like every other they’d experience so far.

Mir’lin caught Xen’eth’s gaze more than once this evening.

The sadness in her sister’s eyes a mirror of her own emotions and thoughts.

Her bag waited prepared next to her newly filled quiver and her bow. As did Xen’eth’s.

They would wait until the first silver of the dawning morning, and then they would leave.

One last evening at home.

None of them could knew, when they would be able to sit among their clan again, but Mir’lin hoped it wouldn’t take them too long.

She hoped, they’d be able to free Rhachalle from the human’s hold.

And she hoped, their mother would grant Rhachalle a second chance.


	3. Prologue III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their search for her sister led Mir'lin and Xen'eth southward. Kirkwall seems like a decent place to continue.

The mere lot of people around her, chattering and gaggling, gave Mir’lin a growing headache. Sure, they had hardly been any moments among their clan when one was truly alone, always with people nearby, talking and laughing and fighting.

But this here was something completely different, the tavern in the early hours of the evening crowded with smelling, yelling people.

With a wary sigh she rubbed her palm along her neck, but it did absolutely nothing to soothe the steady, silent roaring within her head.

And the smell of this creators damned place didn’t helped either. She dragged the hood of her cloak deeper into her face, hiding her _vallaslin_ and her pointed ears in the shadows it cast.

Mir’lin caught a shred of her sister’s laughter, familiar against the foreign noises of too many, too drunken people on one single spot.

She spotted Xen’eth, leaning against a bearded man, clad in filthy tunics and ragged trousers.

Mir’lin’s lips twisted in exhaustion. She actually would have guessed she would get used to Xen’eth’s methods of gathering information.

But here she sat, and she still didn’t. Even if they were in need of more specific information about where Rhachalle was stationed at the moment, _this_ was still her little sister, that filthy guy laid his hands on!

And besides Mir’lin doubted he even knew something helpful to them.

She took another quick sip from the terrible tasting ale in front of her before she walked up to the counter. She tapped Xen’eth’s shoulder lightly, which drew her sister’s attention, but more than just barely reluctant.

Mir’lin nodded towards their table, silently begging her younger sister to simply follow her without questioning.

Xen’eth’s brows frowned over her darkening eyes. She was definitely not pleased by the interruption, but followed her anyway.

“What?” Her younger sister hissed at her as soon as they had reached their table again.

“It was quite obvious the guy didn’t knew anything useful! And I didn’t want you to… well, you know!” Xen’eth’s expressions darkened even more by her words.

“Well, right. He wasn’t exactly the brightest.” One eyebrow arched as she leaned in closer. “Quite cute, though.” Mir’lin rolled her eyes along with an annoyed deep exhale. Creators might judge over her sister’s terrible taste in men, for she had given up her hope a long time ago!

They both sat in silent for a while, until Xen’eth started patting her arm, pointing her head towards the counter where the ragged looking guy had sat. Now he was leaving the tavern, on arm slung around the waist of a pretty, but skinny human girl with raven hair.

“See what you did there? That could’ve been me!” Xen’eth complained in an exaggerate tone of voice.

“Thank the Creators you’re not.” Mir’lin brushed her sister of with a wink. Xen’eth simply shrugged and took a taste of the ale, clearly not as averse to it as she herself was.

She tried to recap with her sister what they had found out while they were staying in Kirkwall. Not that this particular city was the best one to get unbiased information about an apostate who was accused for blowing up one of the humans’ temples.

The accusations might be louder here than in the other cities of the Free Marches they had passed on their way, but they needed every bit of information they could get.

They had just fallen silent again, as two new guests sat down on the table next to them. Mir’lin wouldn’t even have noticed them; to her all humans seemed to look the same.

But Xen’eth’s eyes narrowed as the two of them approached. And she didn’t relax either after they settled in.

Mir’lin shot her a questioning look, but Xen’eth told her to keep quiet, obviously trying to eavesdrop their conversation.

So Mir’lin followed her lead and listened more closely.

“… At least it was some decent pay. Hate to slaughter defenseless women and children, though. But the Duke gets what he demands, right?”

The second man answered first after some moments of silence, his voice slightly deeper than his companion’s.

“They were only those filthy wild elves, not the pretty ones from the cities. So what should we care?”

Xen’eth and Mir’lin startled at the same second, their eyes darting up, meeting the other’s, grown wide in sudden fear and anger.

Mir’lin tried to ignore her battering heartbeat and instead kept focusing on the conversation behind her back.

“Still dangerous, isn’t it? What if this one apostate elf was really sent by the Maker or Andraste? It might have angered the Herold that we killed her entire family!”

Mir’lin felt the uprising panic in her throat as she realized who they were talking about.

Thankfully she had the presence of mind to hold Xen’eth back, flaring wrath written all too distinctly on her sister’s face.

Forced to act quickly, Mir’lin leaned over the small, sticky table and adjured her sister not to do something impetuous now.

“Oh, you mean like _they did_?!” Her bright green eyes had darkened along with the quiver in her voice.

Mir’lin kept whispering, trying to calm her sister as well as herself down.

“We can’t be certain if they’re talking about our clan. And we can’t attack them in the middle of a tavern! Plus, they’re mercenaries, they’ll make a tough fight!” Xen’eth’s jaw clenched visibly. Mir’lin could imagine pretty well what she thought of right now.

“You can’t be serious!” The disappointment in her sister’s voice stung like a physical pain, but she couldn’t help it.

“We’ll wait.” She promised. _And we’ll make them pay._

 

* * *

 

 

They sat in silence, their still filled glasses mostly untouched between them. None of them was willing to speak, too obtained by their nagging fear and the painful hope this was but a misunderstanding.

It seemed to take the men ages to finish their evening, but after what must have been their fourth or fifth round, they finally attempted to leave.

Mir’lin exchanged a long look with her sister, before they left some coin next to their still filled glasses and hurried out into the night, dimly lit from some lanterns here and there.

They spotted the two men’s silhouettes, thankfully just parting their ways.

Mir’lin glanced indecisively over to her sister.

Xen’eth had changed entirely.

Sure, she was still the same woman who sat in front of her in the tavern, angry and brooding, but she seemed different now; her posture softened, her steps lightened. What Mir’lin faced now was a huntress, not her hotheaded sister.

“The one to the right. Draw his attention. I will need only a few heartbeats then.” Xen’eth ordered in a quiet, but firm inflection that Mir’lin obeyed to automatically. She simply nodded and hurried to close up to the man.

From the corners of her eyes, she realized Xen’eth had disappeared from her side.

The man’s tread seemed insecure and unsteady, so Mir’lin hoped he had had too much to drink to pose a serious dread to her. Still, her hand wandered towards her hidden knives. Creators damn the bastard who had decided to keep Kirkwall free from weapons, except for the guards.

When she thought herself close enough, she let out a shout, slightly aggravated about how hesitant it had sounded.

Still, the man stopped, but against what she’d expected he didn’t turn around. His right hand began to move towards his belt as well. Mir’lin assumed a forbidden, hidden weapon there as well.

Mir’lin cursed silently, obviously she had estimated his alcoholic level wrong.

Xen’eth needed him distracted, not ready to fight!

If only she knew where her sister was hiding right now! But all she could see were dancing shadows on the wall.

Mir’lin tried to rise her voice again, less aggressive and much softer this time.

Maybe it was curiosity, maybe he thought her to be one of the whores who lurked Kirkwall’s lowtown after sunset.

Whatever it was that made the mercenary turn around, she was glad he did. For like, a second.

The man let out an approving groan as he spotted her, approaching her far too quickly.

Mir’lin’s heart started pounding harder and faster at the sight. She reached down towards her belt again, and touched the small bottles attached to it softly.

She was certain, she wouldn’t stand a chance against the bulky man in a direct encounter. But the assurance her poisonous explosions were still were she could use them within seconds helped her to stand instead of running from the approaching man.

Yet, her fear grew with every step he came closer.

In the blink of an eye, the man froze in his movements. A silver reflection blinked in the sparse light as a dark shadow emerged behind the man.

Mir’lin probably had never felt more relieved to see her sister than in this moment.

Xen’eth’s one hand was gripping the man’s longish hair tightly, the other one pressed her dagger firmly into the man’s bare skin above his throat, denying him to move unless Xen’eth allowed him to. Mir’lin saw her sister leaning in on the man, whispering something she couldn’t understand into his ear.

Both of them moved into the next small alley. Thankfully, the mercenary didn’t dare to fight back. Maybe she hadn’t been all wrong with how much he had had to drink that night.

Mir’lin followed them, but now drew her own weapon as well, even though the knife felt ridiculously inefficient in her hand. She was even less trained in wielding blades than she was with her bow.

 _Nothing he needs to know_ , she decided.

Xen’eth’s voice snarled hoarsely through the almost silence of the night.

“So, why don’t you tell us which clan exactly you slaughtered?”

 

* * *

 

 

The small valley the mercenary had spoken of laid hidden by dense woods in front of them. Mir’lin swallowed hard as she tried to convince her legs to keep moving.

She was afraid, afraid of what they might find down there.

Afraid of what it meant if the mercenary had told them the truth.

It had been a long travel, almost the whole way back from where they had left the clan.

Yet, _if_ what the man had not lied to them…

Mir’lin looked at her sister, standing next to her, the exhausting last days clearly taking its toll.

And she dreaded what waited for them in the valley as well.

Mir’lin gently rested her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Xen’eth’s eyes found her own, terrified and helpless.

“I know.” She whispered, not because she feared someone might hear them, but because she mistrusted her own voice right now.

Xen’eth’s glare drifted away again, lost somewhere down the hill.  
“Remember last time we made camp in this valley?” She asked, a sad smile on her lips.

Mir’lin took a few seconds to think, then nodded her head.

“You had found that ugly toad in one of the ponds, right? You wanted to keep it as your pet. _Mamae_ forbad it.” Xen’eth sniggered under her breath.  
“It wasn’t ugly at all. I thought it quite cute!” Mir’lin squeezed her sister’s shoulder.

“At least I was able to make a decent poison out of its skin.”

“And I still haven’t forgiven you entirely for that.”

Xen’eth’s smile washed away, replaced by a sadness that Mir’lin had rarely seen on her face.

“This will be though, right?” Mir’lin nodded silently as Xen’eth reached for her hand.

They fell in an uncomfortable silence as they made their way down the almost hidden path.

Until the forest opened and the small valley laid widespread in front of them.

Birds were singing in the trees.

Crickets were chirring in the grass.

For some reason it only increased Mir’lin’s wrath.

The creatures of the forest wouldn’t fall silent for the horrible things that had happened right before them.

They simply kept on with their life.

A strangled whine from Xen’eth reached through the blur that clouded her mind.

Mir’lin tightened her grip on her sister’s hand, dragging them further into the encampment.

Dull, distant eyes followed them on their way through the blood-soaked mud, taking hold of their bare feet with every step and releasing them with a nauseating slurp again.

Xen’eth had started sobbing uncontrollably, but Mir’lin kept going, denying to let go of her sister’s hand.

Distantly, she felt her face became wet. Tears, she assumed, but brushed the thought off.

The mercenary did not lie.

Hunters, women, children.

Their _hahren_.

Their crafter.

Their warleader.

Their halla keeper.

Even the hallas themselves, gutted and left to rot.

Their fault.

Her fault.

She had left them.

She wasn’t here to protect them.

She wasn’t here to die with them.

Mir’lin finally let go of Xen’eth’s hand.

Giving consolation to her little sister, that’s what she was supposed to do now.

But she couldn’t bring herself to it.

She couldn’t feel anything at all, least solace.

She let Xen’eth were she was, broken down next to one of the hunters, and kept going.

Until she saw her.

Her staff still clutched in her mother’s hand, a second, angry mouth torn open on her throat, a silent accusation, the face twisted in anger.

The sounds of flies in the air, the smell, the sight; almost too much, too much to bear, too much for her.

Finally crashing down, her face hidden behind her hands, finally crying out in pain and grief, denying to ever rise again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took them days to bury them all.

Neither of them could care.

They would search for Rhachalle afterwards. This was more important now.

Xen’eth kept getting angrier with each day, blaming their older sister: “If she hadn’t left the Clan, they could still be alive! All of them!”

And Mir’lin didn’t know what to respond to that.

She wished she could tell Xen’eth Rhachalle’s reasons behind her actions, but right now, she could hardly bring herself not to listen to Xen’eth reasoning.

So she kept silent.

It was when they prepared their mother’s body for the funeral, Mir’lin noticed a leathern tie around the mother’s neck.

She pulled it out carefully and gaped in astonishment at the sight.

Rhachalle’s ring lay smoothly against her flat palm.

Her mother must have kept it after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my series Ill-fated, the extinction of Clan Lavellan takes place a lot sooner than in the canon game.


End file.
